


In private

by Be3



Category: Highlander: The Series, Rob Roy (book)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:36:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26818933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Be3/pseuds/Be3
Summary: Notes from the young Master Osbaldistone's Other Journal. One-shots, what-ifs...
Kudos: 1





	In private

_...but, to say truth, I had frequented the counting-house no more than I had thought absolutely necessary to secure the good report of the Frenchman, long a correspondent of our firm, to whom my father had trusted for initiating me into the mysteries of commerce. In fact, my principal attention had been dedicated to literature and manly exercises._

The man we met on Friday is most conspicuously Scottish in all the ways we Southerners ever hope to remain disappointed to confirm, and I am not referring to his manners, for the latter are somewhat civilized, but rather to that rolling drone they use for speech. Only a love of the language ~~and a certain, if I say so myself, mental ability~~ carried me through that introduction. Also, he is a veritable giant, wields his no-less-Scottish sword as if it is a mere twig and disarms an opponent within a minute for a bet. I was that opponent. It could have been half a minute, but Hugh most graciously included the time I spent standing up off the floor.

Naturally, Hugh calls him 'My McLeod'. Of which I learned only after we had 'sparred', as that would have given me a clew not to agree.

One of these days I am going to put my foot down, go to the office again and submit myself to the mercies of Monsieur Dubourg who shall so patiently endeavour to mould me into a clever little clerk. My wit will wither, my good looks will be wasted... Luckily it is not an urgent matter, since I have no intention of surrendering to Dubourg until next week at the earliest.

For today, we are drinking with the de Valicourts!

\---

Note to self: 'sparring' with Hugh's McLeod is safer. One, it happens in the salle. Anyone smiles, he's next. Two, we take care not to break our swords. _My_ sword. Should I be insulted? Not to self: ask somebody other than Hugh if I should be insulted. Mayhap it is different in France. Three, ruffles. Stains. Vile.

Probably quoted 'Much ado about nothing'. My favourite play. Everybody had a laugh ~~at the stupid little Osbaldistone~~.

\---

Hugh thinks I should not attempt to translate any more of _his Boileau_. I am sad. Almost went to the office today. Drinking instead.

\---

'His McLeod' definitely insulted me this time. 'How many inches long is a titling... especially if it's a cropling?' I honestly would have challenged him to a duel, but Hugh very neatly intervened and steered the conversation ~~through the admittedly perilous Over-sea Cockets and Reports Outward and Inward~~ to the far more sedate Duties on Tonnage. For all his easy-going manner, the man is intense when speaking about the customs and imported goods; I wonder what story underlies his silences. Oh! I suppose I should enter some of his imparted wisdom into my Official Diary, to have something to show for my troubles. Father shall be ever so pleased.

\---

Went to the office. Came back.

Don't want to drink without Hugh. Reading Corneille.

\---

My pride suffered today; it turns out that 'His McLeod' just as easily beats me using a rapier as with a broadsword. Whatever grief have I caused him? He can walk on Hugh's left and I on Hugh's right, and we would never have cause to fight again; and I rather wish for such a conclusion ~~for I have grown accustomed to his burr~~. Yet he has taken it into his head to teach me 'the proper technique' which might 'come in most useful someday', against an opponent of similar build. At least he chose 'similar' over some other descriptor that might have been more to the point.

At least I'm fairly certain he went with 'similar'.

I miss home.

I miss not speaking strange tongues with strange people.

I miss... just being back in the plain old England, where I know everybody and everybody knows me.

I cannot wait for Father and I to have a more informed discussion about my future prospects.


End file.
